Rejected By My Mate; Claimed By His Greatest Rival

SERENA’S POV

“Goddess, Serena,” Thorne murmured, lifting my hand and brushing slow, heated kisses across my fingertips. A sharp spark raced through me, settling low and deep. He trailed warm, open-mouthed kisses from just below my navel down the length of one thigh, then switched to the other. When his teeth grazed the soft skin of my inner thigh, my breath stuttered.

I watched him through half-lidded eyes, chest rising in short, uneven pulls, heart hammering. He eased my legs farther apart and pressed a kiss against the sensitive flesh there. My fingers twisted into the sheets.

“I want to taste you.”

Those deep blue eyes locked on mine as his tongue traced a slow path upward, circling the most sensitive spot until my hips lifted off the bed. A soft cry caught in my throat.

He gave a low, knowing chuckle, fully aware of what he was doing to me. Warm breath ghosted over my skin, sending heat racing through my veins. His tongue flicked and then closed around that tight bundle of nerves, sucking gently until my back arched hard.

“I want to watch you fall apart for me,” he whispered against me, then pushed deeper, drawing a broken whimper from my lips. He stroked and teased, teeth grazing lightly. Pleasure crashed through me in waves, every muscle locking tight.

Thorne kissed his way back up to my stomach and dipped his tongue into my navel. My belly trembled. A soft moan slipped free.

“I’m close,” I warned, voice shaking as his mouth continued its relentless attention.

“Then let go,” he said. “As many times as you need. I want all of it.”

I did. I wanted it desperately.

“Please…” The word left me without shame. “Please, Thorne.”

Just as the tension coiled to the edge, he pulled away with sudden, sharp movements and left the bed entirely.

I stayed beneath the covers, the lingering heat of his mouth already fading into a cold emptiness. My breath caught as I watched him put distance between us, bare feet soft against the wooden floor. His back was rigid, shoulders drawn tight with tension I didn’t understand.

“Thorne,” I whispered, confusion thick in my voice. I pulled the blanket higher, as if it could protect me from the sudden chill in the room. “What’s wrong? Why did you stop?”

He halted but didn’t turn. His gaze stayed fixed on the window, moonlight carving hard lines into his face.

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.

Then he spoke, voice flat and distant. “Because I finally realized how much of this… is a waste of time.”

The words landed like a blow. Air rushed from my lungs. I forced myself upright.

“A waste of time?” I repeated, voice cracking. “What are you talking about?”

At last he faced me. Those blue eyes that had burned with heat only moments ago were now ice-cold.

“If it weren’t a waste,” he said, bitterness sharp in every syllable, “why haven’t you given me an heir yet, Serena?”

The accusation sliced straight through me. My chest tightened until it hurt to breathe.

“You’re saying this is my fault?” The question came out broken, barely audible.

He didn’t answer right away. His silence said more than words ever could.

“How can you say that?” I choked, tears already threatening. “After everything we’ve been through—”

“Serena.” His tone turned hard, impatient. “This isn’t about feelings. It’s about duty. I’m the Alpha. I need an heir. Three years of trying, and still nothing.”

My throat closed. “Do you think I haven’t tried? Do you think I don’t lie awake every night wondering what’s wrong with me?”

He dragged a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding through. “It’s not about blame,” he muttered, though the edge in his voice proved otherwise. “But the pack is talking. They’re starting to say you might be—”

“Don’t.” My voice rose, trembling with anger and raw hurt. “Don’t you dare say it.”

His jaw locked. “Barren,” he said, the word cold and final. “You’re barren. If you weren’t, why aren’t you pregnant?”

I froze. The single word cut deeper than any blade. Tears spilled freely down my cheeks. My chest heaved as I tried to process what the man I loved had just called me.

This was the same Thorne who had once kissed my tears away and sworn we would face everything together. The same man who had held my hand and promised, over and over, that it was only a matter of time.

How had we reached this?

“What happened to you?” I whispered, more to myself than to him. My voice fractured under the weight of it. “We’ve been trying. I’ve done everything I know how to do. How can you—”

“Enough.” The word snapped through the air, sharp enough to make me flinch. “I don’t want to hear that sob story again. I’ve had enough.”

Tears came faster. My vision blurred as he crossed the room, grabbed a shirt and shorts, and yanked them on with barely controlled fury.

“Thorne, don’t walk away from me,” I pleaded.

He didn’t look back. He didn’t pause. The door slammed behind him with a force that made me jump.

And then there was only silence.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the closed door, tears soaking into my palms as I pressed them to my face. The room felt colder, emptier—as if every trace of warmth and love had been stripped away.

Three years. Three years of hope, of quiet promises, of shared dreams—shattered in a single conversation.

I thought of every night we had held each other, every whispered reassurance. Now the man I had given everything to felt like a stranger.

My sobs filled the empty space around me. All I could do was

cry and wonder how something that once felt unbreakable had fallen apart so completely.